Carry the Potential
by Guttersnipe Queen
Summary: When Arachne returned early, she was able to enact her plans with much less resistance. Weapon transformation became illegal, and the DWMA became a secret, underground organization. When Maka, one of their most promising meisters, is sent to recruit Soul, an unregistered weapon, the two are able to work together. But can they face the challenges that lay ahead of them?
1. Prelude

If the order of the world were one of her webs, it would be a large but simple one, with only a few flaws here and there. No spontaneity, no complexity, none of the beautiful chaotic mess that it could be. And, as much as it irked her, the shingami would be right in the center, every thread connected to him, and him connected to every thread.

Arachne hadn't been able to kill Lord Death, of course. But once she'd attained the title of grandwitch she certainly gained enough power to do him enough harm that he wouldn't be able to recover for years, decades if she were lucky. And she had more than enough time to put her plans into motion and watch them flourish before that happened. Over the nearly seven hundred and fifty years of her imprisonment, she had become a master at slow and subtle planning.

Once the center of the web was gone, the rest of it began to fall apart. The threads had lost their connection to each other, and the web sagged in some places, while other areas near the center had been torn away entirely. It was a mess, but it could be rebuilt, and it could be rebuilt better, with it's potential reached.

Likewise, with the order destroyed, chaos started to take hold of the world.

It began with fear.

"An entire academy dedicated to training weapons and meisters?" She whispered, every word layered with concern and coaxing. "And they were left completely unchecked except for the whims of an eccentric reaper? And now, they don't even have that. It just seems… dangerous."

And all the little humans in her web turned and saw weapon and meister pairs fighting kishin eggs and witches in the streets. They saw the destruction it caused to their homes and their cities, and the casualties claimed.

They began to murmur amongst themselves.

A group of rogue weapons robbed a large bank in Madrid, hacking and slicing and pummeling their way through the vaults, and any person who caused trouble for them. It was a massively destructive attack, with a devastating amount of casualties, and it made international news.

A smile graced her lips, and she continued to whisper. "Isn't it _terrifying_ how easy it was for them? How it seemed like nothing could stop them?"

"These aren't humans. They aren't even weapons. They're monsters."

There was an attack in Kyoto. The attacker in this case was a powerful kishin egg that, desperate to gain more souls, attacked a crowded shopping center. The death scythe Azusa was able to contain the threat single handedly when she got there, but not before the damage was done.

"They say they're the only ones who can stop these kishin eggs, but their system clearly doesn't work. Why do you have to depend on their ways just for basic safety?"

A park in Montreal. A weapon and meister pair fought a rogue weapon, but got too carried away in doing so. When their enemy was down, they tortured him. After his soul was swallowed, they challenged the onlookers to fight, caught up in their bloodlust. The once peaceful park was in ruins by the time they finally left.

"And though these weapons seem like us, how do we know they aren't just as bloodthirsty as the beings they fight? The only difference is that when they fight, it's pardoned. But why is their behavior accepted?"

And finally, Death City itself. Two students from the DWMA fought and killed a witch in an attempt to gain their first soul. They had been too overzealous. While they had killed a witch, the girl in question had been eleven years old, and by all accounts, had done nothing to warrant the attack.

It wasn't that Arachne took no pride in her work. Her creation of the first weapons had turned out beautifully, but for her plans to succeed she had to temporarily hinder them.

That was where her younger sister came in. Medusa and Arachne created a fragile and unsteady, but mutually beneficial truce.

Medusa was not interested in obtaining a position of authority, but all too keen to be able to conduct experiments, with no obstructions. Arachne watched the bugs in her web struggled, squabbling over their petty laws about how much freedom meisters and weapons could have, and waited for the right moment to step forward.

Her sister pulled through, throwing a prototype "transformation resistance implant" at her feet, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Arachne revealed herself to the public soon after that, offering the solution to their problems.

The little humans, the flies and roaches and beetles of the world didn't trust her at first, of course. But she started making her points, louder and clearer now.

"Who told you that all witches were evil?" She asked. "Did you think that little girl, who never had a chance to become a teenager was evil? That she deserved to be killed?"

The death scythes and DWMA spoke out against her of course, but they had long since lost the trust of the public.

"They imprisoned me for nearly eight hundred years!" She cried out. "I was trying to help people, and they trapped me and slandered my name!"

And the people grew louder and began to push back. The devices her sister created worked magnificently, and rendered weapons helpless. Meisters fought back when they could, with weapons or not, but she had plans for them too.

It wasn't that she wanted a position of authority or to rule the world, not anything cliché like that.

All she wanted was to replace the center in this web of order. She wanted turn the order to chaos. And perhaps, turn the chaos into madness.

* * *

Okay, this was the prologue of what's turning out to be a large story. When writing, at first I just started with chapter one, but then I realized that the world I'm trying to build up here needed more exposition. And here you have a lot of exposition. If there's anything that's unclear or confusing to you guys, please let me know. This is my first time actually publishing a fanfic in 7 years, so I'm a little nervous. I would greatly appreciate feedback.

If anyone was wondering about Shaula, when Arachne and Medusa were meeting up, she had her face and hands pressed against the window. She was crying. It was awkward, so they just didn't mention her.


	2. Chapter One

A/N

*blows a kiss to the computer screen (for Fox of Darkness, Winged Serpent of Light and Inuki Akaryu)* who followed the story and to Chobobo, who left a lovely and very helpful review. Thank you! Guess I actually have to write this thing now.

Trigger warning for alcohol and underage drinking.

Song recs for this chapter:

Sing, Sing, Sing – Benny Goodman

Summertime – Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong

In the Mood – Glen Miller

* * *

Soul placed the near-empty glass back on the bar counter as carefully as he could. He watched in vain as the alcohol somehow escaped the glass anyway, pooling on the polished wooden counter. He placed his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the counter. Unfortunately, he managed to put his right elbow in the vodka puddle. He could feel the alcohol soaking it's way through his suit jacket.

"I think you may have had enough there," Wes said. The words were lighthearted enough, but the tone was dripping with concern. Soul knew that the concern wasn't just born of worry over his health and potential, or at this point destined, hangover, but was also tied to the fact that if their parents found out that Wes had gotten so much alcohol for his little brother, it would be him that faced the brunt of their anger.

"I can handle my alcohol," Soul said, knowing that the words were slurred and trying not to care.

Wes looked over his shoulder, probably to see how many people were still milling around at the after party of Soul's performance. Soul followed suit to find that the answer was a lot. And a few of them were looking over at the brothers with suspicion and distaste. He figured that they thought it was okay for him, as a young piano prodigy, to drink a little bit. It could be viewed as sophisticated. The problem was that getting completely hammered at a party thrown in your favor was probably not as sophisticated.

"I'm so screwed," Wes whispered, under his breath.

"Wha' was that?" Soul asked, looing up at his brother blearily.

"Nothing. Can you stand up?" Wes responded, standing up himself. He held a hand out in case Soul needed it.

"Yeah, 'm not that drunk yet," his brother responded. He then proved his point by carefully standing up without any additional assistance. Wes actually looked a little bit impressed that he hadn't immediately fallen down, but had in fact managed to stand with only minimal swaying.

"Good," Wes responded. "We need to pretend that I didn't get you super drunk. For reasons. Are you up for dancing?"

Soul was still feeling a little dizzy, and it looked like most of the people in the room already had partners to dance with. He hated these kinds of parties.

"I could try." He muttered.

"Blonde in the corner over there by herself," Wes informed him, nodding in the direction of the person he was talking about. "You could just take it easy, it'll look good for the people here and our parents won't get mad at us."

"You mean you," Soul corrected, looking over at the girl. She was blonde, as Wes had pointed out, and was wearing her hair in pigtails, which were done up with black ribbons. She had a long black dress, with ruffles at the end, and see-through black sleeves. For shoes, she had on lacy black heels, but Soul could tell that she was at least his age, if not younger. That wasn't the thing that stood out to him though.

"Is she _reading_?" He asked, skeptically. "At a party?"

"Yeah, she probably got dragged here by a parent or something, but all the more reason to ask her to dance, right? She clearly needs it," Wes replied, giving Soul a nudge in her direction.

Soul shrugged out of his alcohol-soaked suit jacket, placing it on the chair behind him, and tried his best to look sober. He walked over to the girl in the corner, taking caution not to stumble or sway. At one point she took her eyes off of the book, and looked at him instead, her face still mostly hidden by the cover.

As he approached, she glanced down at the book again, marked the page she was on, and closed it. He was starting to get a little nervous, which was frustrating. He thought that alcohol was supposed to help with that. He wasn't even sure what he was nervous about. It wasn't like the girl was gorgeous or anything.

She put her book down on a nearby table, and looked at him evenly, her arms folded across her chest.

"You wanna dance?" He asked, trying to sound as casual as he could.

She looked him up and down, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, alright," she said, after a brief pause. Then she gave him a wicked smile, "I mean, if you're up to it."

She knew he was drunk. Almost definitely. But when he held out his hand, she took it. They were playing "Summertime". It was one of his favorites, but it wasn't a great song to dance to if he wanted to avoid conversation, which he did.

He had danced with people before, but there was something different with this girl. He was hyper aware of the warmth of her thin fingers on his shoulder, the way her other hand felt pressed into the stiff fabric of his dress shirt. He was very aware of how close her face was, and it might have been the alcohol but she had very pretty eyes.

"That was a good recital," she commented, and he could feel her breath on his face. There was definitely a lack of alcohol there.

"Yeah?" He said, struggling to think of something intelligent to say. He remembered that he'd argued so much with his parents over what his set list would be. They wanted a lot of stricter, classical pieces, and he wanted to play what he liked. "You like jazz?"

"I like it, yeah," she replied, thoughtfully. "I don't listen to a lot of it, but I liked it when you played it."

"Um," he said. "Neat."

She laughed, tilting her head forward. One of her pigtails brushed against his cheek. He knew she was laughing at him, but he could feel heat rushing to his cheeks anyway, and hoped she didn't catch him blushing. He tried to focus on the song, matching his movements to the tempo. It was a relatively short song, but the moment seemed to last forever.

With a sigh, the song was suddenly over, changing to something a lot more upbeat and quick.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered to the girl, an idea forming in his head. "I want to try something."

Her eyes shone with uncertainty, but she squared her shoulders and gave him a quick smile. "Sure."

"Alright then," he said, returning her quick smile. The new song was a Glenn Miller one; it was on one of his parent's favorite records. He listened to the familiar song carefully, waiting for a good moment to act.

"Now!" He said, swinging her out and away from him. She caught onto what he was doing immediately, twirling out so her dress flared out around her calves before spinning back into their original pose.

She laughed again, but it was different. It was louder and fuller, and it sounded like it born out of genuine delight. Her face shown with surprise, and as a bonus, an older couple gave them a sour look because of all the noise.

"That was fun!" She exclaimed, and he couldn't help but laugh along with her. He tripped over her foot, but she held on to him so he wouldn't fall, and for a moment they stopped dancing and just leaned on each other, breathless and flushed.

Then the alcohol caught up to him. He registered the surprised and slightly hurt expression on the girl's face as he pulled away from her to rush to the balcony. He shoved through a couple of people, who gave him highly offended looks. It was possible he was alienating a good portion of his fan base, but he didn't really care at the moment, although he was sure his parents would be having words with him later.

The night air was cool and welcome against his hot face, but he didn't have much time to enjoy it. He leaned over the short, granite wall and puked up what felt like everything he'd eaten that day.

He coughed and sputtered, trying to get rid of the acidic taste in his mouth, and trying to catch his breath. He noticed he'd gotten some of the vomit on his tie, and groaned. He tugged it off, laying it on top of the wall, and checked over his dress shirt, which seemed clean. He sighed, grimacing at the taste that still lingered in his mouth. He felt gross. The wall was nice and cold, and he sat down, leaning against it. The shirt was too much. It was too hot and constricting, and he unbuttoned the cuffs, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

Someone cleared their throat and he looked up to see the girl he had been dancing with. She gave him a sympathetic smile, and he grudgingly returned it. He didn't like that she was seeing him like this for their first meeting. He kind of wished that he had been sober.

She had taken her book with her, and placed it on the wall, next to his tie before brushing her dress off and sitting down next to him.

"I, um, here," she said, withdrawing a napkin from a small black purse he hadn't noticed before.

"Thanks," he replied, wiping it across his lips. He groaned, and placed his head on his knees.

"Do you already have a headache?" The girl asked. "I have a breath mint if you want, and I can get some water, but I'd have to run to the store to get some Advil or something."

"I think I'll take you up on the breath mint, but besides that, I'm fine," he claimed. There was a headache starting to form behind his eyes, but he could work through it.

She rummaged around the small purse and took out a pack of mints, handing him the whole thing.

"Wow, thanks," he responded sarcastically, popping one around and placing it on his tongue anyway.

"You need it," she shot back, wrinkling her nose.

He moved the mint around his mouth with his tongue, relishing in the fresh taste before responding. "You have experience with drunk people."

"My dad," she said, sighing.

"Oh," he said. It seemed weird that he knew that piece of personal information before finding out what her name even was. But she'd heard him play, nothing he'd put his heart into, but she'd heard him nonetheless, so maybe they were even.

"Mr. Evans–" she began to say.

"Soul," he corrected, automatically. "It's Soul."

"That wasn't what it said on the program," she responded, furrowing her brow, before catching on to his expression. "But Soul is fine. It's a good name."

"It fits me better," he agreed, tilting his head back against the stone.

"I'm Maka, by the way. Maka Albarn," she said, fiddling with the strap of her purse. She was nervous about something, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out what it was. Her name fit her beautifully though.

"Yeah?" He said, lazily turning his head to look at her.

She refused to meet his eyes, but she glanced at his left wrist. It was bare and pale under the moonlight, but he knew it shouldn't have been. And with a chilling realization, he realized that she knew it too.

He suddenly felt stone cold sober. He grabbed at his wrist, and clambered away from the mysterious girl. "What do you want?"

"Wait – Soul – I –" She scrambled after him. "I'm not going to hurt you – I, I know what you are, but I'm not going to hurt you, okay?"

He paused, trying to put together what her presence must have must have meant, and if he could get out of the situation. His back was against the stone railing. He didn't really have anywhere to go but down. "Someone sent you here to find me," he said, stating the fact more than questioning her.

"I'm from the DWMA," she replied, confirming his suspicions. She seemed to think the response meant something, looking at him expectantly with determined green eyes.

He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "What the hell is the DWMA?"

Maka was clearly taken aback by the question, but recovered quickly. She wearily sat down on top of the railing and looked up at him.

"Things weren't always like this," she whispered, patting the smooth stone to gently indicate that she wanted him to sit next to her. He wasn't sure why he trusted her, but he did, pushing her book aside to make space.

"The DWMA –" she glanced towards the closed glass doors to make sure nobody was listening. Soul could see the people inside, dancing to music he could only faintly hear.

Maka lowered her voice, just in case, "–It's an organization filled with unregistered weapons and meisters. Our goal is to fight back against the witches and maintain order were we can."

"Sounds like suicide," he commented casually, absently touching his left wrist. He'd had so many nightmares about people finding out that he could transform into a scythe and dragging him away to force the transformation resistance implant in his nervous system.

"It can be," she whispered, turning her head away from him.

"Maka," he began, trying to keep an even tone, "I don't know what you want. I don't know what you came here for, but I can't – I can't live with one of those transformation resistance whatever things in me."

She looked back up at him, shocked. "We would never – that's one of the things we're trying to prevent. I think you could join us, you could help change the way things are now."

"I guessed that," he replied, trying not to sound offended. "It's just. I know it sounds selfish, but I'd be risking myself a lot. I've heard stories about what happens to people who piss off the Gorgon sisters, and a TRI would be the least of my problems."

Maka nodded, sympathy filling her eyes. "I understand, we're asking a lot. You don't have to answer right away." She looked down again, giving a soft laugh. "I'm a little desperate, I've been looking for a weapon to partner with for a while, and I thought we might be a good fit. I don't know."

He laughed, and noticed she looked offended. "I think so too," he clarified. "But there is a way I would know for sure."

She met his gaze, with a determination filled one of her own, and he gave her one of his signature shark toothed grins.

"Do you trust me?"

* * *

They had to go through the party to get to the main recital hall, but there were far fewer people then when he had first left, and the ones that remained weren't giving him any dirty looks, which was always a plus. It was getting late, but with everything that had happened he had barely noticed.

Soul still had to use the back staircase, a grimier area, which provided a strange contrast to the otherwise opulent recital hall. He noticed Maka was a little hesitant, which was understandable. He doubted that members of a secret anti-witch organization got to go to lavish opera houses very often. Soul had practically grown up in them, and something about them still made him uneasy.

He recognized the backstage door quickly enough, and shoved it open, gesturing for Maka to make her way through.

The clicking of her heels on the stage echoed throughout the empty auditorium. Soul followed, letting the door close behind him. Maka was staring out at the vast auditorium, awe in her face.

"Isn't kind of scary?" She asked. "Being in front of all those people?"

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "I just focus on my music and it's like they aren't there."

The piano was still set up from his performance. He could almost already feel the keys pressed beneath his fingers. He walked over to the instrument, getting in place.

Maka walked over to him, standing next to the piano with curiosity.

"What are you going to play?" She asked.

"This is–" Soul hesitated, knowing that his words were sappy, something he considered not to be too cool. But if he was going to team up with this girl and go against witches, something he was still having trouble comprehending, he figured he may as well put everything out there. Bare his soul, as it was.

"This is me."

And he began to play.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Soul woke up with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and the sudden realization that the girl he had met that night happened to share a name with the daughter of Kami and Spirit Albarn. They were only the most notorious weapon and meister duo in America. He should have recognized it right away.

He rolled over; pressing his face into the pillow like that could somehow stifle his headache.

He tried not to think about what he was getting into.


	3. Chapter Two

_A sound soul_

 _dwells within a sound mind_

 _and a sound body_

 _\- an ancient proverb_

It wasn't any ancient proverb Soul had ever heard of, but the book Maka had left at the party got a lot denser after that dedication, so he ended up going back to those few lines a lot. He shifted under the thick comforter of his bed, his flashlight illuminating the so-called proverb.

He felt like a total nerd.

It wasn't even like he needed to hide the illicit activity. He was the only person home but he felt like the second he read out in the open, his parents would come back from whatever gala they had gone to, find him reading a book about soul resonance, and ground him forever. And it was far more likely that Wes would get home before them and even then he would probably just pass out on the couch.

Soul shook his head as though that could dislodge the intrusive thoughts and glanced at the page he was on, looking for something that made sense.

From the state of the book, it looked like Maka had already read through it many times. Flipping through it, his eyes caught on small notes she had made in the margins, and the small dried out drops of tea she had spilled on a few of the pages. It was the most marked up book he'd ever seen. The thin pages were dog-eared, unfolded and smoothed out, and then the page corner would be folded in a different spot. There were very few parts that were free of pencil underlines, bright highlights or words that were circled in varying colors of pen.

He didn't have the motivation to read the entire thing, but he couldn't help but skim over some of the highlighted parts.

"The relationship between a technician and weapon should be one of equality and balance. It is the job of the weapon to protect their technician to the best of their ability, and it is the technician's responsibility to protect their weapon from unnecessary harm."

Maka had underlined the part about the technician preventing the weapon from being "unnecessarily" harmed, but not the rest of the paragraph. If the underline was supposed to show what she considered to be the most important, it seemed that she had missed the whole point of the highlighted section.

Smirking at the irony, he skimmed the rest of the small text until he found another highlighted section.

"It is only when the souls of a weapon and technician are able to match wavelengths that soul resonance can be achieved. Soul resonance is an integral part of the weapon and technician relationship. With soul resonance, both the technician and weapon grow in strength and ability. The relationship of the weapon and technician has also been shown to strengthen due to soul resonance…"

Soul had gotten lost somewhere in the middle of the paragraph. There were too many words he didn't understand and the language was way too dry for him to find any kind of interest in the information.

Academic works based on anything to do with weapon and meister, or "technicians", as the book had called them, had been banned for as long as he could remember. The book in his hands was illegal and the words it contained were every kind of taboo. But it had to be the most boring piece of contraband he had ever seen.

What really caught his interest were the words written on the inside of the book cover.

Happy thirteenth birthday to my darling daughter,

I was able to get this book on my latest mission. In a different world you would have received this, and many other textbooks as part of standard technician training, but hopefully this will do for now.

Hope to see you soon!

Love,

Papa

The page was warped in places, like it had gotten wet and dried out on it's own. It looked like someone's dried teardrops. Soul could very faintly make out the words "why did you cheat?"

The pencil lines that marked the words had long since been erased, and very harshly, but they were forever indented in the paper. He could feel them more then he could actually read them.

From what Maka had said about he father at the party, it didn't sound like they had a great relationship. If her father was a man who gave into excessive drinking and then cheated on people, he sounded like a total loser.

Soul's musings were suddenly broken when he heard a large crash from downstairs.

So that was it then.

The government had found out that he was an unregistered weapon and had come to implant a TRI in him. Maybe they'd let him go back to his family afterward or maybe he'd be prosecuted for evading registration. He tried to ignore the horror stories that came to mind. About weapons that were brought in for registration and just disappeared.

He remembered when people were overjoyed that the older of the Thompson sisters was brought in for registration, effectively ending the reign the two had over Brooklyn, but Soul couldn't help but wonder what ended up happening to the girl. She was only two years older than he was, still a teenager.

And he'd never heard anything of either sister again after the older one had been brought in. He didn't like to think about what happened to those kinds of weapons, the ones that just disappeared.

He'd also heard of registered weapons being placed in meister camps, which was an entirely different kind of horror story.

Sometimes the meisters would be so desperate to escape from the camps that they'd try to rip the TRI out of a weapon and force them to transform so they would have a chance of getting through the security and guards.

He was so caught up in what could happen, it took the loud wailing of the burglar alarm to make him realize he was being irrational, not to mention totally uncool. The government wouldn't need to break into his house to register him, and if they did, they probably would have figured out how to stop the alarm first.

He rolled out of bed in his hoodie and sweatpants, ready to confront the intruders himself. In the worst-case scenario, it wasn't like he needed to worry about being armed.

His footsteps sounded preternaturally loud on the polished wooden stairs, and he worried about alerting the intruder to his presence. He could faintly hear the sounds of people talking. They seemed to have heard him.

When he got to the bottom step, he peered around the corner, hidden by the wall the staircase was against. The noise was coming from the parlor, and he could make out some shards of glass on the black and white checkered floor. The window must have been broken.

With another loud crash, the alarm was silenced.

"Black*Star!" A woman shouted, admonishingly.

"Calm down Tsubaki," Black*Star replied. "Look, the alarm stopped!"

Soul decided to make his appearance then, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"Actually," he corrected them, gingerly stepping around the broken shards of glass. "The noise stopped, but the police are still being alerted of the break-in."

He took a moment to absorb the scene, surprised by the appearance of the two intruders. "Black*Star" had bright blue hair and was surprisingly short for how loud he was.

At first, when he noted the chain scythe hanging from the broken burglar alarm, he assumed it was just that. Then, the chain scythe gracefully transformed into a tall woman, who gave him a small smile and a wave.

Soul tried not to make his amazement too obvious. Despite being a weapon himself, he had never actually seen a full transformation.

"Then we'll have to make this a quick visit," the woman, Tsubaki, said. Her tone was laced with both amusement and regret.

Black*Star pointed at him aggressively. "You! Portsmouth! At noon in two days! And if you do anything to hurt Maka, it'll be the last thing you ever do." He flexed his biceps to lend support to his words.

Soul gave what Wes called his "trademark bemused chuckle". "I'm not going to hurt her, she seems pretty cool. And in case you didn't know already–"

He stuck his hand out. "Soul Evans. Good to meet you two."

Black*Star reached for his hand, squeezing it with way more pressure than was necessary. "And I'm Black*Star! The man who is going to singlehandedly end the witch's regime! And that's Tsubaki."

"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you." Tsubaki said, bowing slightly.

"Hey," Soul responded, nonchalantly.

"And you're meeting in a café!" Black*Star continued, either forgetting about or ignoring the greetings they had just given each other. "The lame hipster one."

"Common Grounds Café," Tsubaki provided. "I used to prefer Deathbucks, but that's not really an option any–"

Someone pounded on the door, interrupting any more potential conversation.

"That was fast!" Black*Star exclaimed. "Tsubaki! Smoke bomb mode!"

"Right!"

Their exit would have been flawless, had he not heard Black*Star stumble over some of the window shards and curse softly. As the smoke continued to fill the room, Soul tried to process the fact that Tsubaki had more than one weapon form and the pounding on his door was turning into battering.

"Mr. Evans!" Someone shouted. Someone who sounded very official. He scrambled to the front door, and threw it open, trying to think of a good excuse on the fly.

There was an officer standing in the doorway, her dark skin faintly illuminated from the path lights leading up to the doorway. There were a few other policemen standing behind her, two of whom were actually holding a small battering ram. They looked a little bit disappointed that he had opened the door before they really got to use it. She waved them away and they brought the battering ram back towards to police car that had been parked in the driveway.

"Mr. Evans," The woman in charge stated, with a degree of curiosity. She tried to peer above his shoulder and into the house, but Soul wasn't sure if the smoke was visible or how it would be explained.

He stepped out onto the porch, forcing her to take a step back. The door swung shut behind him, and he leaned against it, crossing his arms. He read the name on her badge quickly.

"Sorry about that, Officer… Reid." He said, casually. "I, uh, was sleepwalking. I ended up breaking a window, and that was what set off the alarm.

"Is there anyone I could talk too?" Reid asked, her brow furrowing in suspicion. "Aren't your parents home?"

"No, not tonight. They had a gala." He responded, honestly for once. "Everything's fine. The window won't be an issue; they can take care of it once they get back. Sorry to disturb you guys."

"Alright," Reid responded, hesitantly. "Give the station a call if it becomes necessary."

"Will do," he replied, nodding to affirm his intentions.

He watched as she and the others walked back to. She threw on more glance his way, to which he gave a friendly wave.

He didn't relax until the taillights of the police car were gone. He exhaled, and locked the front door behind him when he went back inside. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him, and he almost wondered if everything had really happened. It seemed too surreal. Someone with two weapon forms? The intruders breaking in on the one night he was alone? Deathbucks?

He was sharply reminded of his new reality when he stepped on a shard of glass from the window. It hadn't broken the skin and fell off of his foot when he lifted it to see what the damage had been, leaving only a faint indent behind. The last wisps of smoke were still dissipating. He had no idea how he was going to explain the window to his parents, and at the moment, he didn't really care. All the excitement was over, and he was overcome with exhaustion.

He needed to sleep. He could figure things out in the morning. But before he got in bed, he gently picked up Maka's book.

Did she read it under the covers of her bed too? He could picture her sitting cross-legged underneath a comforter, holding the book in one hand and a flashlight in the other. She would probably be reading each word with care and intensity, and she would have some writing utensil within her grasp.

He took a pencil off of his desk, and gently pressed it to the first page of the book, writing underneath her erased question.

 _Common Ground Café. Portsmouth. Noon._

* * *

A/N Kind of a slow chapter for today, there should be more action in the next one.

I can't say how much all of the follows and reviews mean to me guys. Starting school again is always kind of a rough adjustment for me, and your feedback and comments really help keep me motivated in writing this story. I haven't uploaded stories to this site in a while, so I'm still trying to get used to the formatting, which is kind a pain. Also can you just directly respond to reviews now? Because that's neat.

I'd appreciate if you guys could tell if you prefer the author's note before the chapter, or at the end.

Edit: For this story Soul lives in a two-story townhouse in Manhattan.


	4. Chapter Three

"Eyes on Soul," Maka said, adjusting her tie so the wire to the two-way radio on her skirt was better hidden. She could see her new partner through the glass of the café window.

"Roger," Marie replied. Then, in a fonder tone, "I have eyes on you. You can leave your outfit alone; no one can see the radio. Over."

Maka took her hands off her coat, which she had been buttoning up. The radio set felt heave from where it had been hooked into the waistline of her skirt. "Roger."

"Also, it's not supposed to rain today, so you don't really need the coat," Marie continued, her tone teasing.

Maka rolled her eyes. "Roger."

"I saw that. Over."

"Proceed with patrol?" Maka asked, ignoring the older woman's comment.

"Yes, and if do you come across the kishin egg that's been reported and you can't handle it, let me or one of the others know," Marie reminded her. Again. Maka was going to start keeping track of how often Marie gave her that safety warning.

She had handled numerous kishin eggs going out on missions with her parents. While she kind of understood Marie's concern. It was a little bit annoying that the older woman didn't seem to think she was capably of handling one, even when she had a weapon partner.

"Roger," she finally replied. The codes they used to signal that they had heard each other were really starting to grate on her nerves.

Maka stepped out from the alleyway and began walking towards the café across the street, unable to shake her nerves. Being out in public always made her a little bit uncomfortable. She very much doubted anyone would actually recognize her, but the witches had spies everywhere.

She pushed the door to the café open, grateful of its coolness. It was hot out, and her long black coat didn't really help her stay at a comfortable temperature.

Soul was at a corner table one with one of the fancy coffees that the café was known for. He was reading a book, and with a start she realized it was the one she had left at the party for him. From a distance it looked like it could be an academic journal about anything. It was only from a closer distance that someone could see it was about soul resonance.

He glanced up at her, making eye contact before looking back down at the book with disinterest. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean.

She bought some iced sugary nonsense drink to go and headed outside, bracing herself to return to the heat. There was a prominent fountain close by, and she sat on the edge of it, sipping her drink.

Soul exited the café soon after, walking in her direction, but not actually looking at her. He settled down next to her on the fountain without acknowledging her. He had closed her book and tucked it under his arm.

Maka stood up, throwing her now empty cup in a trash bin. She nodded at Soul, indicating that she wanted him to follow her. He gave her a grin with his sharp, pointed teeth and she had to remind herself to stay professional. She'd been thinking about her future weapon partner a lot since they had first met.

"This is all kind of stupid, isn't it?" Soul asked, gesturing at the two of them. "All of this spy acting or whatever? Nobody is going to think we're doing anything weird."

"It's important," she countered, defensive. "Just in case. Also, you're kind of famous–"

He scoffed at the word famous, and she frowned, unsure if he was taking things seriously.

"You are! People could take notice of who you're hanging out with," she replied, earnestly.

She glanced around, sizing up the amount of people around them. It seemed like an area with a lot of tourists. A family of four passed by them, the mother giving Maka a strange look, probably because of the long black coat. An older woman on the other side of the street did a double take when she Soul, but kept walking. A guitarist on the street corner gave them a look, unsubtly nudging his tip box in their direction. There were already a few dollars inside.

"Maybe we should have done this at night." Maka groaned.

"Maybe," Soul said, shrugging. "I'm not even sure what we're doing."

"It's a patrol," Maka explained, feeling a little bit guilty about the lack of information Soul had been receiving. Apparently Black*Star had been the one to tell Soul about where to meet her. She hoped the blue-haired boy's personality hadn't shaken Soul too much. "Everything should go well. You probably won't even have to use your weapon form."

At the last bit, Soul looked up at her. He seemed surprised, but also a little bit disappointed. She wondered how long it had been since he last used his weapon from.

"At least, not for now," she amended, offering him a smile. He accepted it, giving her one in return. It seemed like she was able to read him fairly well, and it seemed like he could understand her as well. That bode well for their partnership.

"So this is like kind of a test run?" He asked, as they rounded a corner.

"Yeah, pretty much," Maka confirmed. "I guess it's just like a patrol I would do anyway, but with you along just so you can get a sense of what we're up against.

"Riiight," Soul drawled. "So what is one of these kishin eggs supposed to look like?"

"Well," she replied, combing her memory for a near exact definition. "A kishin egg occurs when a someone consumes innocent human souls. If they eat too many, they can turn into a kishin. As for what they look like, it can vary. A lot still look human, while others… don't. But I think you'll know one if you see it."

"Alright." Soul shrugged.

They were getting pretty far from their original destination, and this was the first time she had done a patrol in the city they were in. However, she had done a lot of research, and it seemed like they were following her pre-planned route. Soul was willing to follow her lead, which worked well for her. She knew it was something her parents had argued over when they used to go on patrols.

She saw that they were getting into a harbor area, with some dilapidated brick buildings further to the left, along the waterfront. While they were probably once mills of some sort, they seemed to have been converted to storage areas in more recent times. There was a strong smell of brine and rotting wood, and the concrete ground was getting rougher.

"That looks like a perfect lair for a kishin egg," Maka said, pointing out the brick warehouses to Soul.

"You want to check it out?" He asked, uncertainly coloring his tone.

"Yeah, I can get us back-up if we need it," she replied, pulling her coat aside so her radio was visible. Soul nodded at her and they began walking to the warehouse area.

Soul suddenly jabbed her in the arm, and she spun around to look at him, annoyed. He nodded in the direction of some stacked boxes to the side of one of the buildings, and she followed his gaze.

It seemed she had been correct in thinking that Soul would be able to tell a kishin egg when he saw one. There was a creature with near translucent skin perched on one of the boxes, almost hidden behind one of the buildings. It's once human face seemed contorted and flattened, it's mouth open and twisted. There were blue orbs floating around throughout its body and she prepared herself for a fight.

The kishin egg looked at them, it flat black eyes narrowing. Its lips tore into a ragged grin and it stalked forward, it's large tail swinging back and forth, leaping down from the box it was on. It was the most far-gone kishin egg she had ever seen. It's transformation into a fully fledged kishin could be only a few souls away.

Soul was already transforming into a weapon and she caught him by the handle of the scythe.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Ready," he replied, his voice echoing and fainter in the new form.

She charged at the monster, exhilarated. She finally had a weapon partner, and she was finally directly fighting a kishin egg without help from an adult. Marie's voice crackled in through the radio with alarm, but the rush of adrenaline and the blood roaring in her ears drowned the voice out.

Maka took a swing at the monster; only for it to rear back on it's hind legs before trying to stomp down on her. She jumped out of the way, compensating for the fact that she had an actual weapon. They had changed positions; she was walking backwards, headed towards the area with the boxes. It continued to stalk forward, drawing the attention of a few onlookers. She readjusted her grip on Soul. The situation was getting bad.

It swung its large tail at her, but she managed to avoid it. She wasn't prepared for the rebound and got smacked into a pile of boxes, which almost fell on her head. Her radio got torn off on some loose edge and she kicked it away with frustration.

"Maka?" Soul asked, after she had rolled out of the way. The boxes crashed to the floor, temporarily preventing the kishin egg from getting any closer.

"I'm fine," she said, through gritted teeth. "You?"

"I can definitely keep going," he replied, though his tone exuded concern.

The kishin egg leapt over the fallen boxes with ease, watching her struggle to stand up. "An unregistered weapon?" It growled, curious. Its gaze was on the scythe in Maka's hand. "I've never eaten one of those before."

"Maka…" Soul said, waiting for a response.

"Don't worry, Soul," she replied. "The only time you'll touch him is when you're freeing the innocent souls trapped inside his body!"

With those words, she jumped back onto one of the stacks of boxes, using the height advantage to bring the scythe down on the monster's head. The former human had grown too large to get out of her way in time, and the scythe hit its mark. Maka rolled out of the way and looked up just in time to see the innocent souls being freed, while the red one hung in the air. Weighed down by it's transgressions.

Soul transformed back into human form, standing up and then helping Maka get to her feet.

"That was incredible," he whispered, exhilarated. He dropped his arms to turn around and look at the soul hanging in the air. "What do we do with it?"

"You eat it, right?" She asked, like he was supposed to know.

It seemed like he approved of the answer, grabbing the soul by it's tail and lowering into his open mouth.

Maka watched with interest as until she heard her name being called. And then the reality of the situation kicked in. "Shit."

Soul finished gulping down the kishin egg before looking at her in concern.

The boxes in front of the two teens seemed to explode to either side, revealing Marie. At first, concern seemed etched into every part of her face, but when she saw that they were okay, her expression quickly shifted to fury.

"What were you thinking? I told you to call for backup and you don't even answer your radio? I thought you were dead for a full two minutes! What was I supposed to tell your father? I–"

"Her radio came off in the fight," Soul said, defensively. Marie turned her glare on him, her one visible eye glistening with some undefined emotion.

"And dragging Soul into a fight with a late stage kishin egg when he has no actual experience!" Marie continued, before turning to Soul. "My name is Marie, by the way I'm with the same organization as Maka. How many times have you used your weapon form?"

"Not counting just then?" Soul asked, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly. "Um, twice."

Maka turned to him with surprise and alarm, while Marie nodded grimly.

"It was dangerous," he said, trying not to sound defensive.

"It still is," Marie responded, sighing. "Stein and Spirit are doing damage control with the witnesses. I'm glad you two are safe."

Maka had forgotten about the people who had actually seen the fight and felt guilt settle into the pit of her stomach. "Is everyone okay?"

"It seems like the civilians are fine, but it doesn't change the fact that you messed up." Marie sighed. "The patrol is finished. You two can go home."

Maka turned to Soul, who shrugged. She awkwardly stuck her hand out and he shook it, a wry smile gracing his face.

"See you when I see you," he told her. He walked back in the direction of the city center, probably to catch a bus or something.

"Yeah, see you," Maka faintly responded. Marie put her hand on the younger girl's shoulder.

"Despite not calling for backup when you obviously should have, that didn't go too badly." She stated, trying to sound upbeat. "You probably have more patrols with him in the future."

The woman paused for a moment, pressing her lips together in disapproval. "Maybe with fewer kishin eggs though."

* * *

Maka quickly rolled out of the kishin egg's path, neatly jumping back to her feet, with Soul already slicing through the air. The kishin egg charged forward, and Maka stepped back accordingly, preparing for it's next attack.

The rooftop fight had already been going on for a few minutes, and it was a good thing she had worn her gloves. Her hands were starting to get so sweaty that simply holding on to Soul would have gotten increasingly difficult.

The once human slunk around her, looking for an opening. It stood on two feet but its back was hunched over so much that its hands dragged on the ground. Blood and saliva mingled together in its open mouth and dripped down its sharpened, grayish teeth.

"Not fair," it was muttering. "Not fair."

"What does it mean?" Soul asked, quietly. Maka couldn't help but wonder about that herself.

"It doesn't matter right now," she replied more to herself than to her weapon partner. The kishin egg took advantage of her momentary lapse in defense and charged at her, teeth bared.

Maka swung at it, only for it to dodge out of the way at the last second. She gritted her teeth in frustration. "Coward!"

"Mabaa would never had let this happen," the kishin egg grumbled. It was the most coherent thing she'd heard out of the former human during their fight, and the fact that it even brought up the former grandwitch's name was shocking.

"Mabaa?" She said, surprised.

The kishin egg, probably assuming that it had caught her off guard, charged towards them. Maka smoothly swung Soul through its distorted form, causing it to unravel until only a corrupted soul remained.

Soul gracefully transformed back into a human. He plucked the soul from the air and dropped it into his mouth.

Maka laid down on the flat rooftop, tugging her gloves off and slipping them into her jacket pocket. She wiped her sweaty hands off on her skirt and noted how much they were shaking. She hated all the leftover adrenaline. The fight was over, and she was exhausted, but her body couldn't seem to understand that.

She heard Soul sit down next to her, and they shared a moment in quiet, resting after the intense fight.

"Mabaa?" Soul said.

"She was the grandwitch," Maka replied. "But it sounded like that kishin egg missed her. Like he was unhappy with the Gorgons' rule."

"It could have been," Soul mused.

"I know Arachne and Medusa want to form more kishin and spread madness across the world. Why would the kishin egg be mad about that?" Maka whispered.

She sat up, and pain shot across her abdomen. She cried out in pain, pressing a hand where the pain was radiating from.

Of course, Soul was immediately at attention. "Maka? What is it? What happened?"

"I must have gotten injured during the fight," she responded. She gingerly pressed her hand against the wound. "Best case scenario it's just a bad bruise. That's what it feels like, at least."

"We should get you back to –" Soul began to say, before realizing he had no idea where Maka actually lived. "Wherever," he finished. He stood up and offered her his hand.

She accepted it, carefully getting to her feet. "You mean the meeting place with Azusa?" She asked, a smile playing across her lips.

"You know what I mean," Soul replied, looking to see if there was a way to get off of the roof without too much jumping around. He saw a fire escape, and nodded towards it.

Maka immediately understood his intent, and they headed over to rusting metal stairs. "How many missions have we gone on now? Not counting patrols?"

"I dunno? This must be our tenth, right?" He said.

"I think you're right," Maka confirmed. She eyed a step that looked particularly rusted and skipped over it. "I guess it's probably safe to say you aren't a double agent for the witches or government or whatever by now." There was definitely a teasing quality to her tone and he couldn't help but return it.

"Cross my heart," he replied, smirking.

They reached the end of the fire escape and Maka hopped down onto the pavement below, grunting as she jostled the presumed bruise on her chest.

"How are things with your family?" She asked, bluntly.

The teasing mood evaporated.

"Not great," he responded with equal candor. "They caught me turning my arm into a blade and I got a whole speech about how much they've sacrificed by keeping me safe and how apparently the 'Evans name' is all that's protecting me from registration. And then I tried to explain the whole thing with Black*Star and the window."

Maka turned to him, her eyes widened in surprise. "He actually did that? I really hoped he was kidding."

He shrugged. "It's not a huge deal."

"And your parents?" She asked.

He shrugged, turning away from her inquiring gaze. "They thought it was a little bit of a big deal, but I handled it."

"42-42-564," Maka blurted out, suddenly. "It's not – I mean Lord Death isn't going to answer, but if you need to get in touch with the DWMA, for anything, you can write on a mirror or a window or something."

"Huh," Soul said, processing the information. "42-42-5 what?"

"564," Maka confirmed, looking at him.

"I'll remember," he told her, nonchalantly. "Hey, while we're here do you want to do some sightseeing?"

She gave him a weird look. "Don't you live here?"

"No, this is Queens," he replied, incredulity creeping into his tone. "I live in Manhattan."

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. He noticed how she flinched when she made contact with the bruise.

"Or maybe you should get back to the DWMA," he amended. "Can't really fight if my meister's really wounded."

"I'm not!" She exclaimed, smiling. "Or at least, not badly."

"Why don't we let Azusa decide?" He asked, turning a street corner. They were only a few blocks away from the meeting place.

"That might be a better idea," she confirmed, gently probing the sore spot.

"42-42-564?" He asked.

"That's it!" Maka exclaimed, sounding genuinely delighted, and he couldn't help but smile along.

"We'll be taking on more and more kishin eggs in no time!" She continued. "Maybe we'll get to take down a kishin – or a even witch!"

"Before we do anything else, you need to get that checked," Soul reminded her.

"Yeah," she responded. "It'll be fine, but yeah."

They started down a new street, leaving the echo of after-battle relief in their wake.

* * *

A few hours later, in a different part of the world, hollow footsteps echoed against the marble floor or a church. A sword opened his mouth, and screamed.

* * *

A/N :)

Okay, so what I understood from canon is that you have humans (or meisters), who can turn into a kishin egg by consuming innocent souls, and then the kishin egg can turn into a full on Asura-type kishin. For the kishin egg part, I made up appearances based on how far gone they were, because the appearance of kishin eggs varies a lot in the anime and manga, although there does seem to be a tendency to base them off of real people?

Other notes: I honestly cannot emphasize how much everyone's comments and feedback are helpful to me. The reviews help my motivation so, so much. So extra thanks to Winged Serpent of Light, , clexausic, and kittenlover15! I appreciated the feedback on where to put my A/N, and now I'm wondering about the title. I'm not sure if it fits, but I can't think of anything else, so if you guys have suggestions, let me know!

I have way too much to say in these notes, they're going to end up being half the length of the chapter. The next chapter I have to write and edit from scratch, so we'll see how that goes. Wish me luck!


	5. Chapter Four

Liz shifted uncomfortably on the bus stop bench. It was way too hot for her to be in the red turtleneck crop top and white jacket she was wearing, not to mention her boots and jeans. She was trying to ignore how the metal implanted in her wrist felt like it was burning the skin around it.

Patti sighed and leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her knees, so she could rest her head in her hands.

"Siiisssss," she whined. "I'm booooooored."

"Yeah," Liz sighed. "I am too, but we have to wait. It would be too dangerous for us to follow him."

"Yeah, but I can still use my weapon form," Patty reminded her, unintentionally insensitive. "We worked together fine before – I don't see why we can't–"

"No!" Liz said sharply.

Patty looked taken aback, and Liz immediately regretted her tone. Things were so different now. Occasionally, Liz caught Patty giving her these pitying or concerned looks and it never used to be like that. Patty had always looked up to her, even when she got scared by something dumb.

"We can go after him if he's not back in ten minutes," she amended. "He said it would be half an hour at the most, right?"

"Right!" Patty confirmed, upbeat and perky again.

Liz leaned back against the bench and sighed, tipping her hat forward to keep the sun out of her face. "Death the Kid", if that was even possible, had found her and Patty at the most opportune moment, right after she had escaped from – well. She pulled her sleeve over the hot metal implant.

"I'm gonna do cartwheels!" Patty exclaimed, pulling Liz out of her thoughts. She eyed the sidewalk dubiously, but Patty was already up and positioned before she could say anything.

Liz smiled at her sister's antics. Kid hadn't done anything that would make her inclined to distrust him, and as long as he could protect Patty, she figured they might as well stick with him.

Patty managed to tire herself out eventually, settling back down on the bench with a huff. "Has it been ten minutes?"

Liz closed her eyes. "Yes," she muttered through gritted teeth.

And immediately Patty sprung up again, seemingly more excited by the thought of actually doing something than by the thought of helping their meister.

"Liiiizzzzz, c'mon," she whined.

She gave a groan as a result. "Listen, if he's really Lord Death's son I'm sure it isn't anything he can't handle. He's a lot more…resilient than we are, sis. And it could be really dangerous!"

"It wasn't."

Liz shrieked and scrambled off the bench, using it as a barrier between herself and the newcomer.

Kid didn't look too impressed by her reaction, and Patty didn't seem to notice. She was jumping up and down, clapping her hands together.

"You came back! Yay!" Patty exclaimed, pulling their startled meister into a hug.

"Of course I did," he said, brushing off and straightening his already perfect suit. "The person I was meeting is a trustworthy source. If they weren't, I wouldn't have gone."

Liz checked to make sure her TRI was still covered. Kid had hidden the disappointment that she and Liz wouldn't be able to form symmetrical weapons quickly, but not quickly enough for to not have noticed.

"Well?" She prompted, placing her hands in her pockets. "Any news?"

He twisted his lips into a grimace. "Possibly. It seems…unlikely. We should leave, I need to talk to the others about this."

"Sounds good to me," Liz said, dryly. Patty nodded, a look of determination on her face.

Kid looked around to make sure the area was as abandoned as it seemed, and pulled out his skateboard.

Liz groaned, reluctantly stepping onto the board while Patty transformed into her weapon form. It would be a long ride back.

* * *

Soul crouched at the bottom of the stairwell, straining to hear the conversation his parents were having. They were in the parlor, where he had first met Black*Star and Tsubaki. He felt guilty, while knowing he had nothing to feel guilty about, and he wasn't sure if Wes would back him up or not.

"…Getting out of hand," his father hissed.

"I know, but what are we supposed to do? If we turn him in…" his mother asked.

Soul pressed his back into the wall. He wished he had felt more surprised, but this was something he had expected since the day he found out that he could change into a scythe.

"I'm sure there's a way we could do it without getting in trouble ourselves, but he's our _son_! Should we really…?"

At least his mother was advocating for him a little bit.

"We can't let him drag this whole family down with him. We have to think about Wes too," his father countered.

"I know, dear. I know." His mother sighed, resignedly. "He was fine before; I don't understand why he's acting out now. Does he really think we haven't noticed all the sneaking around?"

"I've heard that unregistered weapons just develop this kind of behavior over time," his father said, with undeniable regret in his tone. "I know it's hurts them, but I wish we had just registered him when we first found out. It would have been easier for all of us."

"I know." His mother let out a quiet sob. It quickly escalated into full-blown wails. "Why did he have to be a weapon?" She cried. It sounded muffled, like maybe she was pressing her face into his father's shirt, but Soul couldn't see what going on.

He'd heard enough. He quietly walked up the stairs, feeling strangely empty and heavy at the same time.

He walked into his bedroom, exhaling on the mirror. He pressed his finger against the fogged-up surface.

42-42-564

* * *

Liz jumped off of Beelzebub before Kid had touched down on the sidewalk. She ran towards their headquarters, her face tinged green.

Patty transformed out of her weapon form right after, running after her. "Hey, wait up!"

Kid tucked Beelzebub away, catching the heavy door before it slammed shut in front of him. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but he could make out Azusa reading a large book on the couch. She stayed in the new DWMA headquarters a lot of the time, unless they needed her skill set particularly on a mission. It was her house, after all.

"Welcome back," Sid said. He was leaning against the kitchen counter. "We need to have a meeting."

"Yes, we do," Kid agreed. "Is everyone here now?"

"No." Azusa said. "We're missing Marie, Maka, and Joe. And the other members in different areas of the world. And Kami, of course."

"This is important," Kid decided. "We can tell them later."

Black*Star leapt off the bannister of the staircase, landing in his feet. "We're having a meeting! I'll let everyone know right know!"

"I think they noticed–" Kid began, but Black*Star was already clambering back up the stairs.

"WE'RE HAVING A MEETING! EVERYONE! SUPER IMPORTANT DWMA MEETING. LEAD BY MYSELF, OBVIOUSLY!"

Nygus walked over to the fridge, pulling out a beverage that more likely than not contained alcohol.

"It's a good thing we found him when he was an infant, otherwise I doubt he would have lasted long," Sid commented, rubbing his forehead.

The door to the basement creaked open, and Stein poked his head out, his glasses shining ominously.

"We're finally having that meeting?" The scientist asked, rubbing his chin.

Azusa had inherited a large and open house, and Black*Star's voice could still be heard from wherever he was currently pestering DWMA members.

"It would seem so," Azusa commented, shutting her book with a sigh.

By the time everyone had gathered around the long table in the dining room, Black*Star was the only one missing, still running through the house.

"He'll be here sooner than later," Kid decided, noting that without the extra person, there were an equal amount of people on each side of the table. It was soothing. "Sid, what did you want to talk about?"

Sid looked to Stein, seated next to him, and nodded.

"There was an attack last night, in a church in Italy," Stein explained. "At first, we thought it was just another rogue meister and weapon attack, but after some research and eyewitness accounts, we think it might be a new experiment."

"Our source is trying to get more information on it," Spirit added, jumping in. "But so far it seems like Medusa's work."

Kid rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "And none of our people were there?"

"We _are_ spread pretty thin," Tsubaki pointed out. Kid knew she and Black*Star had just recently gotten back from a week-long mission in Cambodia, and the older girl didn't seem to possess the same amount of energy as her partner.

"It would be beyond impossible to have a DWMA member in every country, let alone a meister and weapon pair," Sid added.

"I know," Kid said, resignedly. He looked at Liz, who gave him an encouraging smile, and nodded, giving her small one in return. "Is there anything we can do to prevent this 'experiment' from getting out of hand?"

"At this point, I think all we can really do is rely on our source," Stein said. "Maybe we can have Justin cover Italy for now, but I doubt Medusa will strike the same place twice."

"OKAY!" Black*Star shouted, bounding into the room. He dragged a chair over, ruining the perfect symmetry of the table. Kid clenched his jaw.

"So what did we need to talk about?" Black*Star asked, propping his feet up on the polished wood.

"Kid?" Sid asked. "You said you had news too."

"Yes." Kid placed his hands on the table, interlocking his fingers. "We were able to extract information about my father."

There were murmurs around the table, and he continued. "From what I've heard, Lord Death is alive, but in poor condition. He's being held hostage."

"If I may," Azusa said, bluntly. "It doesn't seem possible that a being as powerful as Lord Death _could_ be taken hostage."

"Though, if he was in poor enough condition…" Stein mused.

"This changes everything," Nygus whispered. "If Lord Death _is_ alive, then we'll have a new face for the DWMA and weapons and meisters everywhere will regain hope."

"I bet he is!" Black*Star declared. "Nobody could take down Lord Death for good!"

"Did they say where he was being held?" Patty interjected, in a moment of seriousness. It was a rare look for the girl, and even Liz looked a little bit surprised.

"They did," Kid said. He took a deep breath. "They said he was being held underneath the Death Weapon Meister Academy."

A heavy silence settled over the table.

"The witches' lair," Stein finally muttered, darkly.

"We've considered attacking it before!" Black*Star said, jumping into the conversation. "I say we should just go for it! Take out all the witches at once!"

"I think this may call for a mission with a little bit more stealth," Kid replied. "If we could find a good opportunity–"

The door creaked open, cutting him off.

"The downpour out there!" Marie exclaimed, shaking out her umbrella. She stepped into the house, dripping rain into the carpet. "I mean with the humidity earlier today I guess it could be expected, but trying to keep three people dry in that weather? And not get lost while doing it? I think I would have rather taken on Medusa herself."

Maka stepped in next, wringing out one of her pigtails. She nodded towards the third member of their party, who stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him.

"Soul," she said, gesturing to the living room. "This is the DWMA. DWMA, this is Soul."

The boy smiled a shark-toothed grin.

"Good to finally meet you guys."

* * *

A/N It took me a solid ten minutes of research to find out what kind of edgy name Kid gave his skateboard and it was Beelzebub.

Other info: They're in Azusa's house because they were going to be in Gallows Manor but then I remembered what Gallows Manor looked like and thought it just might be too obvious of a headquarters for the DWMA. Also they'd be pretty close to the actual school, effectively making them neighbors with "the witches lair". I try to write people as much in character as I can, but Black*Star can be surprisingly difficult to pin down.

It's been a hectic week for me, but I love hearing from you guys. You're the reason I still have motivation for this story.

Another shout-out to Kittenlover15, , Lalu Norisu, clexausic, and Winged Serpent of Light. I'm sorry I wasn't able to answer everyone yet, but I hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter!


	6. Chapter Five

It was getting cooler, but they still needed the fan going at full speed. The noise used to keep Soul awake at night, but he'd gotten used to it. When he first learned that he would be sharing a room with Maka, he had panicked a little bit. Internally, of course.

He was just used to having most of the house to himself, and to suddenly have that little space was something to get used to. And to share it with a girl the same age as he was?

And then there was the Patty factor.

When he first realized that the Thompson sisters were who he thought they were, he was almost a little bit disappointed. Liz seemed to alternate between jumpy and surly, while Patty was energetic and excitable. They differed very much from the descriptions he'd heard of them from their days terrorizing Brooklyn.

In particular, Patty had come from a much different background than he had, and relished the freedom granted to her by the large house. She switched the room she slept in as easily as everyone changed clothes everyday, but seemed to gravitate towards Maka. Nobody seemed comfortable mentioning the other factors that probably played a part in the girl's decision, but Soul quickly learned that Liz had nightmares.

He'd jolted out of bed the first time he heard her scream cut through the thin walls, ready to transform into his weapon form, when Maka had murmured an explanation from her bed across the room. Liz's nightmares also didn't help with his sleep, as selfish as it made him feel.

That night, Patty was sleeping on the pull out sofa that Maka kept in her room, using only a thin blanket to cover herself. Soul's eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to note the way the corner of the blanket fluttered every time the fan rotated in her direction.

Maka was mumbling in her sleep. It was a habit Soul noticed, but didn't really mind. He doubted that he would ever admit it, but he thought it was kind of cute. He could never really make out what she was saying.

He pressed his face into the pillow, willing sleep to come.

He and Maka had taken out a kishin egg that day, and while Maka had fallen asleep almost as soon as they got back, he still felt full of adrenaline. It had been a close one, only a few souls away from becoming a fully-fledged kishin, and he couldn't help but wonder if the situation was getting worse.

There seemed to be more and more kishin popping up, and he could tell that some of the DWMA members were getting worn down. There was also the weapon and meister duo that had attacked the church. There had only been one more attack by them since then, but it was devastating, and only made things worse for unregistered weapons and meisters.

And it was silly, it was such a stupid thing for him to even think about, but he kind of missed playing the piano.

As in actually playing it, not the rote practices that he had done for hours on end every day because as long as he upheld the "Evans" name, his parents wouldn't arrange for a registration. There was no piano in Azusa's house for him to practice on, and he was worried about forgetting all his music.

He missed Wes.

Maka mumbled something in her sleep, about her mother. Soul had yet to meet the woman, but was too keenly aware of how much Spirit distrusted him around Maka. It was kind of funny to him, how the man who ran around and hurt the women in his life was simultaneously so concerned over protecting his daughter from the same fate.

Like he and Maka would ever – well. He had some confusing feelings about the meister. He tried not to dwell on them.

He closed his eyes and hoped for sleep.

* * *

Maka looked at her legs as she watched the coffee pour into her oversized mug. Her left one had gotten a little bit banged up in their last fight, she could see the scratches running up her calf. She remembered how she'd gotten those. She'd nearly fallen off of a rooftop and scraped her leg down the side of the brick building while desperately trying to find footing.

The bruises that coated both of her legs were, as always, a mystery. She took the mug out of the machine carefully, so that the coffee wouldn't slosh over the sides, and suddenly realized that the house was far too quiet.

There was nobody else in the kitchen. There were none of the faint noises she'd come to associate with Kid straightening everything out, or Patty yelling about something while Liz corrected her with a groan. The silence from the basement, Stein's usual dwelling, was far more concerning than any of the bizarre sounds she'd heard coming from there before.

The house was in a fairly remote area. Sure, she'd slept in for once, but for everyone to suddenly go missing in the extra hour she'd spent in bed? It didn't seem feasible.

She walked around to the back of the house, where she finally started hearing some chatter. It seemed like everyone was in the backyard, which caught her off guard. Even though the house was surrounded by forest, they'd always made an effort to keep their presence quiet.

She opened the back door with a creak, and stepped out onto the porch. Black*Star and Soul stood to the right of the backyard, with Death the Kid across from them. It seemed like everyone was crowded around them.

She pushed through the crowd, until she was standing next to Tsubaki, who had her hands clasped together and pressed against her lips in concern.

Oh no.

"They aren't going to–" she began, only to stop when Tsubaki nodded in confirmation.

"It will be interesting to see how this plays out," Stein commented from the other side of Tsubaki. "Kid refuses to use Patty, but Black*Star and Soul have no experience fighting together."

Tsubaki closed her eyes. "I don't know what I did wrong."

"Nothing," Liz responded from behind them.

"There's no way Black*Star is going to switch weapon partners," Maka assured the older girl. "He's not _that_ stupid."

This got a small smile out of Tsubaki, and she opened her eyes. Soul was transforming into a weapon. The fight was beginning.

Maka sipped her coffee, and nearly choked on it when Black*Star immediately dropped Soul and struggled to pick him back up again. Kid crossed his arms, part impatient and part amused.

"They didn't match wavelengths?" Maka asked, unsure of why she would even assume they had. Maybe that had been giving them too much credit.

"I think they were trying to," Stein replied.

"Ha!" Black*Star shouted, lifting Soul up triumphantly. Maka winced as she watched him almost immediately drop the scythe on his head.

"This is painful to watch," Liz muttered, rubbing her wrist.

Maka closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of their wavelengths. They had actually tried to match them, contradicting what she had assumed, but they were still on completely different levels. Maybe if they had tried a little harder they would have been able to, but Maka couldn't picture Black*Star would be willing to sit through any of the wavelength matching exercises if he didn't have to.

Soul transformed out of his weapon mode, so that only his right arm remained a long, curved blade. He and Black*Star started to argue with each other, while Kid suppressed a yawn. She couldn't help but feel a little proud of how easily she and Soul were able to fight together.

"Are we done?" Kid asked, smirking.

Black*Star whirled around, ready to yell at the young reaper when the back door slammed open.

Everyone wilted under Azusa's withering glare. Standing in the doorway, with her arms crossed, she cut an imposing figure. When she spoke, there was ice in her tone.

"I don't know what's going on here, but it's over. We need to come up with a plan of attack."

Soul shifted the blade back into his arm, and everyone shuffled back inside. Make noticed how Kid tried to save face and look professional, standing up straight and wearing a neutral expression. Like he hadn't been right in the middle of things.

She raised an eyebrow at him and he scowled back at her. She drained the rest of her coffee, though she wasn't really tired anymore, and placed the mug in the sink.

"DWMA MEETING!" Black*Star yelled, even though most of the people who needed to hear the information where within a few feet of him.

"Another one?" Liz groaned, while Patty clapped her hands together, excited.

Maka couldn't help but agree with Liz. She understood the importance of having everyone in the headquarters on the same page, but the news just seemed to be getting worse and worse. She couldn't help but worry that any day a kishin egg they'd missed would bloom into a full kishin and be too powerful for them to take down.

She took a seat at the dining room table, and noticed that Soul took the seat right next to her. She felt like she was starting to get such a good read of his wavelength that she could almost feel his presence.

"We need more people spread out across the world," Azusa began. "Either that or the ability to anticipate and neutralize these kishin eggs before they get to a dangerous point."

Kid sighed, suddenly looking so much older. "We've tried to do this before, and we can't. Unless you've found out something else, we just have to rely on our source and try to find people willing to help when we can."

"Azusa's right. It isn't good enough anymore," Stein confirmed, folding his hands together.

Kid rubbed his temples. "We need you both here, and we can't risk separating you and Marie. I need to be here, Liz can't fight on her own, and we can't separate her and Patty. Black*Star and Tsubaki are out so often that they're barely here anyway."

"And me?" Maka asked, glancing over at Soul.

"We already have your mother out doing extremely dangerous work, and your father is out on a different dangerous mission right now. I'd rather not separate your family any more than I have to, but if it comes down to it…" Kid said, musingly.

"I'd go with her," Soul stated.

"Of course," Kid confirmed. "And for Anticipating attacks–"

"We have information on the church attack," Azusa said. "It was done by a powerful meister-weapon hybrid."

The declaration was met with silence.

"A _what_?" Liz finally blurted out.

"We know that a witch, almost certainly Medusa, managed to combine a weapon and meister together. They were responsible for the church attack. She calls it the Ragnorak project." Azusa explained.

Maka couldn't really wrap her head around the concept.

"Hmmm," Stein muttered, "I see. There's a lot of risk, but a lot of gain. The souls collected from the church alone would go a long way to forming a full kishin."

"But, how?" Tsubaki asked, undisguised disgust in her voice.

"It seems," Azusa began cautiously. "That she was able to melt down a weapon and inject it into the body of a meister."

Maka felt Soul shudder beside her, and from the expressions she saw, he wasn't alone in this reaction.

"This is the kishin egg that we're truly concerned about. If we could take it out, we would be able to better protect against other, unrelated attacks." Azusa continued, pushing her glasses up.

"But we don't know the next place it will attack." Kid stated, dryly.

"No." Azusa admitted. A small smile formed on her lips, a rare sight for the stern woman.

"But we do know where it lives."

* * *

A/N: Sorry I missed a week! I ended up having three exams and then got hit with a cold because of course I did. I'll try to keep the updating as regular as I can. I've also been working on how this is going to go, but in the next chapter, they'll get out of the house. Again, thank you so much for all of your commenting and reviews. If you have any questions, let me know! I'm going to work on responding.


	7. Chapter Six

TW for blood and just Medusa in general

* * *

"You do realize that the more you struggle, the faster your heart beats, and the quicker the blood travels through your body, don't you?" Medusa asked, noting the subject on the table with disdain. It was a rhetorical question. She'd gotten tired of the screaming and had an assistant tape his mouth shut.

She twined a scalpel through her fingers, wondering how quickly the black blood would close up a sagittal cut in the scalp. Of course, she'd need more than a scalpel for that, at least until she hit the brain–

She was jarred out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. She caught the scalpel between her fingers, neatly capping it and sliding it into the pocket of her lab coat.

"Come in!" She said, the false cheer in her voice disguising her annoyance at being interrupted.

The door to her lab creaked open, revealing another one of her assistants. She'd had time to get used to having the freedom to conduct whatever experiments whenever she wanted, with access to all the resources she could ever need, but it still gave a sense of satisfaction. Especially considering all the sneaking around she'd had to do in the past, just to get a single thing done.

"Well?" she asked the assistant, a hint of warning in her voice.

"Lady Medusa!" The woman said. "Forgive me for interrupting your work, but Lady Arachne has requested your presence."

Medusa twisted her face into a grimace at the mention of her sister.

"Did she say what she wanted?"

The assistant shook her head. "She's waiting for you in the death room."

"She came here?" Medusa replied, unable to hide her shock. Usually she had to go to wherever her sister was when they wanted to meet. She looked back at the subject on the table and frowned.

"Fine, then," she conceded. She nodded towards the subject, "Keep on eye on his condition, but do not make any changes until I return, understood?"

"Understood!" The assistant responded, holding the door open for Medusa.

She left the room begrudgingly, making her way to the room that Lord Death had once inhabited. She buttoned up her lab coat and kept her hand resting in her pocket. She presented herself as relaxed, but her fingers were curled around the scalpel.

Arachne came into view as Medusa walked under the guillotine blades. She noticed a spider dropping down from one of them, and Arachne's lips curled into grin.

"Sister," she began, gesturing for Medusa to have a seat at the other side of the table. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise," Medusa responded, gracefully taking a seat. "But I'm under the impression this isn't just a casual visit."

Arachne raised an elegant eyebrow. "Straight to the point then. I believe it's time we talked about the little rebellion that's been going on."

"Yes, what about it?" Medusa retorted. If her sister had wanted to get rid of the little DWMA group, she would have wiped them out already.

"We don't know a lot about them," Arachne continued. "But they've been doing a startlingly good job of preventing kishin eggs from growing into full-blown kishin. And it's starting to irk me."

"Which is why I'm working on creating a kishin myself," Medusa replied, irritation leaking into her tone.

"Yes, well. About your little project downstairs. It's cute, sister, and it's a very good attempt, but why isn't it a kishin yet? It must have gathered enough souls by now, shouldn't it have?" Arachne retorted, a smirk growing on her lips.

That was the biggest problem in her experiment, and Arachne knew it.

"Perhaps, but it's certainly creating enough havoc and destruction to spread chaos. And it has been keeping that little group that's bothering you busy," she stated. "At this rate, they won't be able to stop the naturally-occurring kishin eggs anyway."

"I suppose," Arachne drawled, "But you realize that we already have one of the most powerful kishin in history at our disposal."

Medusa's eyes widened. "You can't possibly mean–"

"Yes." Arachne confirmed. She leaned forward on the table, so suddenly that Medusa was startled, and began to laugh. "Just think of it, Asura loose again. Think of the destruction, sister, the chaos, the madness–"

"You know why that won't work," Medusa interrupted, "If we let Asura free, the spell will break. If one goes free, they both do."

"I think we're strong enough to face Death by now, don't you?" Arachne countered.

"He's had time to recover from your initial attack," Medusa pointed out, ideas already starting to form in her head. "He'll be strong, but if we inject Asura with the black blood…"

"He would be stronger," Arachne finished, sitting back into her original refined posture.

"Hypothetically," Medusa confirmed. "Let me send out Crona one more time. If it fails to become a kishin, we'll begin to put your plan in action."

"I can allow that," Arachne said, smoothly. She stood, brushing off her velvet dress. "I'm glad we spoke."

"As am I," Medusa responded. "I'll let you know of my success."

* * *

Maka moodily flipped through a young adult novel Marie had gotten her after going out on one of her missions. She shifted to find a more comfortable position on the bench, trying to ignore the sound of the basketball thudding against the cement.

She could see why Marie thought she'd like it. A girl living in an oppressive society was deciding to fight back against the evil regime of a dictator. If that were all there was to it, she'd probably like it more, but between the subplot with a love triangle and the protagonist constantly doubting herself, and it was starting to get boring.

And her father hadn't come back from his mission yet. The adults in the DMWA had tried to assure it that it was probably fine, that sometimes missions ran a little bit long, but he'd never gone a mission so long without letting her know.

She was actually starting to hope that he had just shacked up with some random woman, and it disgusted her.

The basketball sailed over her head, and she looked up sharply.

"Sorry," Black*Star said, rubbing the back of his head. He didn't look very sorry.

"You should join in," Soul added. He probably would have looked bored to most people, but she could see the hint of concern in his features.

"No thanks," she replied, curtly. She looked back down to her book, turning a page to further convey her disinterest.

"It would make the teams uneven anyway," she heard Black*Star mutter to Soul.

"What teams?" He responded. She wasn't looking at him, but she could picture his wry smile. "It's just the two of us."

"And it's a good thing too, because I could take on everyone and still win!" Black*Star claimed.

"You can't take on anyone if you don't get your ball back," Maka muttered.

Black*Star and Soul looked at each other.

"You threw it," Black*Star stated.

"What? No, I didn't!" Soul countered.

Maka tuned them out as she looked back at the book. Nobody had told her where her father had gone on the mission, but she had an uneasy feeling that he'd been sent to the old academy. Everything seemed to lead there. It was where Lord Death was being held, and according to Azusa, it was where the demon swordsman lived. Not to mention that it doubled as a witches' lair.

She could only imagine the building. When she wasn't out on missions with her parents, she lived at Azusa's. The only other people her age were Black*Star and Death the Kid, debatably. It seemed to her that the reaper was older than he looked. Tsubaki had shown up when Maka was around ten, and Liz and Patty a few years after that. Although the two girls couldn't contribute much until Stein figured out how to remove the TRI.

And then there was Soul.

She had some confusing feelings about her weapon partner that she didn't want to think about. Instead, she frowned, trying to picture what the actual Death Weapon Meister Academy looked like, but all her brain was supplying was Hogwarts.

Her phone vibrated and she snatched it up from where she had placed it on the bench beside her.

"Hello?"

"Maka?" Kid responded, warily. "Is it safe to talk?"

"Yes, is papa–?" She began.

"No, I'm sorry, we still don't have any news on your father's status. Are Soul and Black*Star still with you?" He asked.

"Yes," she replied, trying not to let her disappointment seep into her tone.

"You should all return to headquarters as soon as you can," he instructed. "The Demon swordsman has made an appearance."

* * *

The test subject was whimpering again, but Medusa was satisfied with her work. The black blood seemed to have attacked and replaced the regular red and white blood cells, and was welling up in the deep cut she'd made down his torso.

She watched as the skin began to heal over. It seemed as though it was healing faster than it had the last time she'd made the cut, but science wasn't based on opinion.

"Time?" She asked, once the skin had healed to the point where there was no trace of the cut ever occurring.

"Twenty seconds," a lab assistant called out.

Ah, so it had been faster. Much faster.

"It's a shame I already sent out Crona," she mused. "I'll just have to inject it with the improved black blood when it gets back."

"Yes, Lady Medusa," another assistant replied.

"In the meantime, this is excellent news!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Sedate the subject, and inform my sister."

"This calls for a celebration."

* * *

A/N: Hope everyone's having a good weekend. There's going to be some action in the next chapter!


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